Can’t Deny the Blood

As the rhythm of the temperament music made the whole bodies dance, none of the guests, nor hosts, were prepared for what was about to come.

The battle had started on two fronts at the same time. Unexpectedly. Quietly.

“Give it back.”

Fifty’s voice was low and steady, but his eyes burned like coals. He stood firmly in the narrow doorway of the storage room, blocking Marshall’s camera from getting a clean shot of what was happening inside. His frame was the only thing keeping the scandal from spilling out into the lens.

“It’s too late.” Jastin clutched the envelopes, hands shaking, eyes darting between Fifty and the lens. “The investor is watching this scene in full HD. You can’t stop what’s coming.”

“What scene? From where I’m standing, it seems like you took a piece of that birthday cake without permission. You did mention you were hungry.”

Jastin flinched, his grip tightening on the envelopes. “Fifty, please. I entrusted my dream to him.”

“To ‘him’? You mean your mother with whom you called earlier?”

“I had no choice!”

Fifty’s gaze turned razor-sharp, dissecting every word. He only hoped the blasting music from the hall was loud enough to drown out this confession. The size of the camera was the only thing preventing Marshall from pushing Fifty away or sneaking inside of the storage room.

At the same time, Stella bolted from the hall, heels clicking against the tile, head bowed and eyes wide with a thousand racing thoughts. She barely noticed the space she slipped through—right between Marshall and Fifty—like a ghost rushing through walls. Her hands trembled as she shoved the door to the women’s restroom, stumbling inside and locking herself in the nearest stall.

“Wasn’t that your boyfriend?” The voice on the other end slithered through the receiver.

Her pupils shrank.

“Don’t ruin his family’s birthday party… I’m begging you.”

“Yes, it’s quite nice. Noble, even.”

Stella leaned against the cold tile of the stall, fragment memories of every detail in her life that led to this very moment tumbled into her mind.

The a car accident her father caused, which caused a life threatening injury to her mom.

The time a Romani doctor tried and failed to save her mother’s life.

The time her dad came home drunk, bruised and bloody.

All those times he would repeat that his success meant he had to purge this society of the ‘useless pests’ that ruined everything.

All the slaps that followed whenever she would suggest he should try to understand them more.

All the times he yelled at her for refusing to discriminate against anybody.

“I did this not only to piss you off…” Her nails dug into her palm. “I was hoping you would see that they are genuinely nice and hard-working people. I wanted you to stop with this obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession,” he said, voice silk-smooth but sharp enough to cut. “It’s a mission. I let you be a part of it because I would use any chance to foil their miserable lives.”

“You’re cruel. The further away I am from you, the better!” Stella inhaled. “But I won’t let you destroy this!”

“The plan was set in motion by my spy. And when the party turns into animal fighting, with just a press of a button, I will broadcast it in the primetime for all pure Velgravians to see.”

Stella hung up the phone and dashed from the toilets. She just charged straight at Marshall Fate like she was taking down a linebacker.

His eyes barely registered the incoming blur of red dress before she crashed into him with the force of a meteor. Marshall staggered back, winded, and the camera he’d been clutching slipped from his grip.

Time seemed to slow as it spun mid-air, catching flashes of chandeliers and glittering decorations before smashing onto the tile. The lens shattered with a sharp crack.

Fifty didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Jastin by the collar and, in one smooth motion, shoved him back into the storage room. The door slammed shut with a metallic click, and Fifty slid the lock in place.

Marshall, still reeling, gawked at the ruined camera like she’d just smashed his only child. “Do you know how expensive these are?!” His voice broke, bordering on hysteria.

Stella dusted off her dress and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You can always ask my father for another investment.”

“I won’t let you ruin my plans!” He lunged forward, hands outstretched, wild and desperate. Fifty instinctively stepped in front of Stella, fists clenched and ready.

But the punch never came.

Instead, a massive hand clamped down on Marshall’s arm with the force of a vice. Vajda Elvys loomed over him, smiling with just enough menace to make Marshall’s knees buckle.

“Hey, producer. Why don’t we have a couple of drinks together? You’re still too sober for a party like this!” He dragged him away to the hall, grip firm but casual enough that the other guests didn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks, Uncle! I owe you one!” Fifty said, grabbing Stella’s hand as they followed Elvys into the main hall.

“No need to thank me, I was already planning to make him drunk!”

With Marshall safely out of the way for the time being, Fifty glanced around the hall. “One, two, three… four cameras in total.”

“And each one of them is sending my father a live feed.”

“We have two options. Number one, we destroy all the other cameras. Number two, we watch the guests, Marshall, Victor and try to prevent any scandals or disasters.”

“First option would breach our contracts since we have to let them record this event,” Stella said. “And I bet they would even blame Billie and Mr. Eilish, fining them astronomical amounts of money.”

“So that leaves us with the second option.”

“But we can’t keep Jastin locked inside of that storage room whole night.” Stella bit her lip nervously.

“What if we just called police for attempted theft?” Fifty suggested, but the idea collapsed under its own weight the second it left his mouth. “Wait. No. A ‘police storm gypsy party’ headline? We’d play right into Fate’s hands.”

“You mean, my father’s hands.”

“What? Fate is your father?”

“No, you idiot! But he’s in the cahoots with my father. They’re trying to ‘prove’ to the world that all Romani are just wild animals who don’t belong to the society…”

Fifty stared at her, eyes wide. “Wow… what an epic plot twist.”

They decided to split up, looking for any disturbance.

The Mirgas beamed with pride as Fifty and Stella floated through the party, making sure everyone was fed, comfortable, and just the right amount of drunk. The guests praised their thoughtfulness—none of them having the slightest idea of the chaos happening just outside the walls of tradition and laughter.

“Come here, you angel,” Emynem grinned, shoving a vodka shot into Stella’s hand before she could protest. “One shot for luck!”

“Oh… I really shouldn’t—”

“Nonsense! Luck waits for no one!”

She sighed, raised the glass to her lips, and downed it in one gulp. It burned like honesty, and she shuddered as it settled.

That’s when she saw it.

Across the room, Victor was slipping a banknote out of his pocket, folding it neatly in half as he sauntered toward the singing Gypsy Khan.

Stella’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her thoughts splintered like glass.

“Oh, crap. That stupid jerk…” she hissed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Think, Stella. Think!”

Victor reached Khan, leaned in, whispered something. And Khan silently nodded in approval.

Panic skittered up her spine. What are they planning? The cameras were still rolling, meaning her father’s eyes were out there. She could feel his chilling gaze from every angle.

Her phone buzzed.

Of course it was him.

She picked up.

“It’s on,” Kral said, voice colder than steel. “The whole Velgravia now sees this… amazing event live.”

Stella swallowed hard.

“I don’t need any insiders,” he continued, voice dripping with contempt. “The gypsies can make fools of themselves better than anyone.”

Her eyes stung, but she forced the tears back down, shoving them into some dark corner of her heart. “You want someone foolish on camera?” Her voice sharpened. “You want flavor?”

Even his silence was smug.

“Then watch this.”

She didn’t hang up. She wanted him to hear properly.

With deliberate steps, Stella marched to the edge of the dance floor, yanked a bottle of vodka from a side table, and smashed it against the polished wood.

Chapter 17: END